


Makeshift Family

by MapleTreeway



Category: Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Based on a Tumblr Post, M/M, Mentions of Domestic Violence/Abuse, Modern AU, highschool!au, kinda angsty, lots of healing fluff tho
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-02-22
Updated: 2016-02-28
Packaged: 2018-05-22 14:02:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6082098
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleTreeway/pseuds/MapleTreeway
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The summer before junior year for Hux could only be described as this: a whirlwind of pure shit. It was a miracle, really, that the Solo family still welcomed him into their home. Even if they were the ones who started it all what with stupid <em>nosy</em> Ben.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [AU](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/177705) by kevin-the-chicken. 



> ayyy so I saw this idea on tumblr and i had to write it. this is just a starter chapter to set the scene, you feel? things'll get more in depth as they go

If someone had told Hux when he was six that he would find a family who loved him, he would have kicked them. At age six there was no such family in his future. His father, Brendol, was barely there as it was (and when he was there it was nothing but scathing comments); and his mother had walked out when he was two. The closest thing resembling a family back then was the nanny who watched him - and even _she_ left when he turned ten.

So no, Hux wouldn’t have believed them at all.

\----

His childhood was the epitome of pathetic. In elementary school no one bothered to sit with him at lunch on the bias of his ginger colored hair. It was a childish discrimination that eventually waned, but from grades one to three that was his reality. Along with the occasional teasing, which sometimes made him tear up a bit. But he never cried. According to his father good boys never shed a tear.

They just had tough hearts.

Fourth grade got a little easier, as that was when he first met Phasma at a summer camp. She was tall for her age, blonde too. And older. Much older. Hux would ask her all about how the sixth grade worked, if the people got any kinder, if she had made any friends. She looked at him strangely when he asked that and slowly shook her head. “It’s cliquey,” she answered. Then she ruffled his ungelled hair. “It’s easier if you conform to everything, trust me on that one.”

So Hux spent the rest of fourth grade through fifth grade perfecting the art of conforming. Phasma helped whenever she could (honestly it was a miracle she lived nearby). She gave him tips and tricks and took him shopping when his father wouldn’t. And in that superficial way they became friends. But they never talked about feelings and they _never_ talked about Hux’s father’s mistreatment. He had tried once, but she had quickly changed topic. In that way it was a bit alienating. But Hux took what he could get where he could get it - like some desperate schoolgirl.

Hux came to find out that the books were all wrong. That friends were only there for fair weather.

By the time middle school rolled around he had the art down to a T. It was a useful thing to have, in all honesty, because now he had a fair number of school friends. No one thought of him as weird or eccentric, so they either let him be or flocked around him like mosquitos to light. The kids who used to avoid him now adored him. The kids who called him names now got to taste their own medicine. Things were looking up.

He never bothered to get close to anyone.

It was during his middle school era that Hux stopped referring to his father as “father”, opting to call him “Brendol” instead. Because by now the comments were getting harsher, the expectations overwhelming. Brendol wanted him to become a lawyer just like him. Wanted him to take over the firm when he eventually retired. Carry on the family legacy. And how the fuck could Hux do that with anything less than extraordinary grades? _“It all starts in middle school, boy.”_

To further make his point, Brendol stormed into Hux’s room one night, took everything Hux had enjoyed as a child, stuffed it all into a trash bag, and threw it out. All the posters, action figures, toy cars. Gone. He replaced them with law books that Hux couldn’t comprehend, replaced them with literary classics that bored Hux to death. Said that if he caught Hux even _looking_ in any direction other than school, he would belt some sense into him. And his son took those words to heart, as they both knew it wasn’t an empty threat, and that had been that.

Hux gradually started to resent Brendol more and more.

In eighth grade, Phasma barely talked to Hux. Hux didn’t know why he was surprised or disappointed - she was a sophomore now. Of course high schoolers didn’t want to associate themselves with middle schoolers. Even if they had been friends for four years, who could blame her? Hux had gotten what he needed out of her a long time ago anyway. 

So he took that stupid hurt he felt and used it to build walls around his heart.

Some would tsk at that and deem it a machine-like tactic.

But he just called it coping.

The game changed in high school so much so that it was a brick in the face. A good, 2,000-students-maybe-more brick in the face though. Because here Hux could easily blend in with the anonymity that the halls provided. Not to mention no one really gave a shit about him so long as he did his work correctly. Not Brendol, not his teachers, and certainly not Phasma, whom he saw in the halls at times. And in turn he didn’t really give a shit about anyone except himself.

Until he met this one aggravating classmate named Ben Solo in the second semester of freshman year. Ben was loud and mean and _different._ Instead of the standard short haircut all the boys had, he wore his hair long. Dyed it black too. Sometimes he came in with his nails painted dark colors like it was no big deal. And it _irked_ Hux how much Ben didn’t give a fuck about what people thought. 

“Why do you _do that,”_ he hissed once to him while working on some classwork. They sat next to each other in more than one class; Hux thought the world was out to get him just because of it.

“Do what?” Ben replied, totally unfazed as he connected his earphones’ jack to his phone.

Angrily Hux gestured to his classmate’s hair, face, body in general. “Why don’t you conform?”

Ben turned to look at him with narrowed eyes. “Why do you slick your hair back like some fuckin’ prep guy wannabe?”

“Are you seriously -”

“Shh.”

“No I will n-”

 _“Shhhh._ I have something you might want to hear.”

Hux closed his mouth slowly, making sure to shoot Ben an untrusting look.

Ben smirked. “Here’s a tip, prep boy: shut the fuck up.” And with that he stuck his earphones in his ears and turned the music up so loudly that even Hux could hear it.

 _Asshole,_ Hux thought, seething.

\----

To say that Ben and him were at each other’s throats was an understatement. Right from the get-go there seemed to be an understanding of mutual hatred. They were too different. Polar opposites. Hux was this simple, unoriginal, work-until-exhaustion, headed-to-law-school kind of person; while Ben was this complex, horrifically different, work-when-I-want, don’t-know-what-to-do-with-my-life kind of person. Type A versus Type B, if Hux wanted to get psychological with it.

Yet despite their hatred, they slowly became friends over time. At first it was exchanging numbers purely for homework’s sake, but then it grew to walking out of class together. Soon it became sitting at lunch together, friending each other over Instagram and Snapchat, talking outside of school, and eventually hanging out. By the end of sophomore year, Hux found himself enjoying Ben’s company - much to his horror.

Of course they still fought. Fighting was their thing. But when they didn’t bitch about each other, they bitched _to_ each other. Mainly about other people. Their targets were often their teachers or their fathers, whichever had hurt them most recently. Hux was surprised to find out that Ben had daddy issues too. And while Ben had no shame in verbally bashing his dad, Hux was more quiet about it. He had learned with Phasma that friends didn’t stick around for the bad aspects of him. And Brendol was pretty fucking bad.

“It’s your turn Bitch McGee,” Ben would say. “Let it out.”

“One, don’t call me that. And two, not a chance in hell.”

“Fine then, Bitchface.”

“Here’s a tip, McRager: shut the fuck up.”

McRager. Bitchface. They both relished calling each other names, but it wasn’t filled with the same malice Hux had encountered during elementary school. That was just how they showed their friendship. If Ben was fine with it then Hux was too.

But Hux was careful where Ben was not. He didn’t open up very easily, didn’t become vulnerable like Ben always did. In fact he was pretty damn sure that he knew more about Ben then Ben knew about him. For instance, Hux had already met Ben’s parents and knew what their professions were. Leia, Ben’s mother, is a top-notch heart surgeon; while Han, Ben’s father, owns a bar downtown. They’re both warm and friendly, yet full of sass (it was terribly apparent where Ben got it from). And while Leia was angry from stress at times, she was nowhere near as bad as Brendol.

Ben didn’t know Brendol. He had never met him, never seen him save for in pictures. And Hux preferred to keep it that way for both their sakes. So that was why whenever they hung out it was mainly at Ben’s house or outside somewhere or at Hux’s when Brendol was going to be out for a while.

_“Some dirty secrets stay secrets for a reason.”_

That’s what Brendol always said. And Hux took it to heart. Memorized the phrase until it bled from his brain and out his ears. Some dirty secrets stay secrets and Brendol, as far as Hux was concerned, was one of them.

That is, until stupid, nosy Ben found out about him the summer before junior year. And when he did, every secret, every vulnerability, every goddamn feeling Hux ever tried to hide came out in the open, bursting at the seams.

It was a mess, really.


	2. June 3rd through 9th

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i cannot thank you guys enough for the incredibly positive response to the first chapter!! i'm super thrilled people like this story (it only makes me more excited to write it tbh). here's the next chapter for you guys! It's a little longer than the first

“Heads up!”

Hux looked up just in time to catch whatever the hell Ben threw at him. The action made him choke on his soda in surprise, leaving him coughing when it went down the wrong pipe. Ben smirked a little but said nothing, sitting down across from him. _What an asshat,_ Hux thought as he wiped his mouth on his sleeve. Green eyes glared at brown before looking down at the formerly flying object. _Is this...a card…?_

“Ben, what is this.”

Ben’s smirk grew. “A card.”

“No shit. What’s it for?” Hux replied, turning the card back and forth in his hand. It was made of plain black cardstock that was haphazardly cut out, edges looking torn at places. The words OPEN ME were scribbled in silver Sharpie across the front, big and bold. Tape closed off the opening, probably to hide the inside’s message from prying eyes. He snorted and shook his head. _Trust Ben to be a child._

“Hey instead of judging me, why don’t you _open it?”_

The redhead looked back up at the black-haired teen. Ben’s eyes were getting stormy, darker too. It was as if he somehow read Hux’s thoughts - which in itself was impossible, seeing that telekinesis was a thing of fiction. Maybe he had just interpreted his body language? _Yes,_ thought Hux as he started to open the card, _it was probably that. He’s unnaturally good at reading people anyway. I wouldn’t be surprised if body language was his second language._

“Open it faster, Hux. It’s not a fucking bomb,” Ben said, half-getting out of his seat. One hand was poised over Hux’s to take the invitation from him. Whether it was to take it away for good or open it for him, Hux didn’t know. Didn’t want to know. Because goddamn he was capable of _this_ much at least, despite what Brendol kept saying lately. 

_“You’ll be just like your mother if you don’t get your shit together. Weak. A quitter who deserves no respect. So if I see so much as a B on your Finals, boy…”_

“I got it!” Hux exclaimed in anger. He willed Brendol’s words away, wanting them out from his mind. Out out _out._ Didn’t want them here. Not now in a crowded cafeteria full of people who didn’t know or care. Not now with Ben the fucking Mind Reader sitting across from him, raising his eyebrows like he had heard this morning’s memory.

Hux turned away from his friend and tried to cover the sudden outburst up. “Fuck, Ben, I’m not some baby you need to hover over. I know how to open up a stupid card.”

Ben didn’t move; but he did let his hand fall to the table lamely. “I never said you couldn’t,” he pointed out stiffly.

The redhead made a noise of disbelief while he tore away the tape and, in addition, some attached cardstock too. It stuck to his fingers in an irritating fashion, and he made a face as he pried it off and flicked it away. And when he finally opened the card, he could feel Ben’s eyes burning holes into him, intense and unapologetic. It was a bit dramatic, considering that all the inside said was:

END OF THE YEAR BONFIRE. AT THE PIER BEHIND MY HOUSE. @ 6 PM ON THE LAST DAY.

WILL YOU COME? CIRCLE ONE OF THE CHOICES AND BRING IT BACK:

YES  
FUCK YES  
YES.

Hux stared at it for a minute, not fully registering it. Then he looked a his fingers, which were covered in silver-colored glitter. Then he looked back at the card in disbelief. Then back at his hands. Then back at the card. Until finally all he could say was: “You wrote this in glitter.”

Ben shrugged, spread his hands, and sat back down. 

The redhead held up his message and gave his friend a look. _“In glitter,”_ he repeated. Rather dumbly, he realized right after.

“You don’t need to update me on how well your eyesight works,” the black-haired teen deadpanned. Without thinking, he reached for his friend’s soda and took a swing of it.

Hux watched him drink it, his mind still on the glitter. Brendol would’ve killed him if he had caught Hux even holding the stuff. Let alone writing with it. Just another way their families differed, he guessed. If Han let his son do this then, well…

“Aren’t End of the Year parties freshmen and middle school level things? No upperclassmen do it,” Hux pointed out.

“It’s not a party,” Ben said haughtily. “It’s a bonfire - which just happens to be popular among upperclassmen.”

“As if _you’d_ be invited to any of them,” Hux muttered in undertone. “Let alone have a successful one.”

“Fucking heard that, you ass. And it _will_ be successful, because my grandfather always had best bonfires known to man and I intend honor him. Anyway, if you don’t come we’re not going to be friends anymore.”

“What are you? Six? Seven?”

“Better than an uptight adult.”

Hux got up and left, smacking Ben upside the head as he went. He could practically feel the other’s stare on his back until he turned the corner. _Good riddance,_ he thought, face burning.

\----

The rest of the day involved absolutely nothing productive, seeing as it was the last Friday in the school year. Finals were all next week, and the teachers had either covered everything or just didn’t care anymore. Hux’s English teacher fell into the latter category and, much to his annoyance, gave them all a free period. 

Hux hated free periods almost as much as he hated Brendol.

Free periods had no structure, no substance. Nothing to work on and nothing to do. Other classmates worked on homework that was due next period or studied; but he had already finished his assignments and hated studying for things he already knew. It was an arrogant way of thinking, he knew, but what could he do? Look at memorized notes in a blank stare? It made him angry just thinking about it.

And the _noise level._ Good god. People talked all the time to their friends. Or turned their music up too loud. Or both. The English teacher did nothing about it, checking her Facebook every five minutes instead. Hux thought her incompetent and lazy, which was true to an extent. She didn’t even bat an eye when he collected his things, went up to her, said he was going to another teacher’s class, and held out his pass for her to sign. “Here you go, sweetie,” she said, voice sickly sweet but eyes glued to the screen. “Have a good day.”

Hux took the yellow papered pass, pocketed it, and left. He didn’t say anything back to her. She wasn’t worth his time.

The hallways were quiet, empty too. With confidence he made his way to where the football fields were outside. The heat of early summer hit him when he left the building and made him wrinkle his nose a little. If he were to be quite honest with himself, he much preferred it cold. The sun made him burn and it peeled his skin off with greedy hands. And with the summer heat came the summer breaks and with the summer breaks came the absolute boredom of it all. AP summer assignments could only help so much.

Green eyes scouted the fields, noting where the PE classes were being held. Hux steered clear of them in his search to find a shady place to sit, not really in the mood to explain why he was out here and not in class.

Aha! There! He found one under the bleachers, completely hidden from sight of the health obsessed coaches. The breeze blew away from them, too, which further helped his plan on not getting caught. His pace quickened. His heart beat fast in anticipation of what he was about to do. And when he finally reached his secret spot, his hands were shaking. The metal support beam he collapsed against felt cool on his back, a wonderful contrast to the dry air around him.

The sound of zippers unzipping was drowned out by distant yelling. Hux ruffled through his army backpack, trying to find his pack of menthols. “I know I brought them,” he muttered to himself. “I know I did.”

His hand hit the pack before he saw it. Relief flooded through him and he grabbed it, taking a cigarette out before putting the box back. Cigarette firmly held in place between his lips, he rummaged around his backpack’s first pocket to find the lighter. It didn’t take nearly as long to find it as it did the Marlboros, and for that he was grateful. Hux wasted no time in lighting up, closing his eyes and leaning his head against the beam as he took a drag.

It wasn’t that he smoked all the time. He didn’t. Only when he was bored or after an extremely bad fight with Brendol. He had formed the habit in the middle of last year, when he had found a pack just lying around his house. Since Brendol didn’t smoke, he had figured it was a client’s and that said client wouldn’t come back for it. Because that was just so ridiculous it was absurd. Coming back to someone’s house for a forgotten Marlboros pack? Unheard of; and, if true, a little more than embarrassing.

So Hux had taken the pack and lit up his first cigarette in his room. It left him feeling lightheaded and nauseous, coughing and sputtering. His throat felt cold, but despite the uncomfortable feeling, he found it helped calm him down. It was...good. In a weird way. He didn’t want to stop.

But Brendol was not happy.

When Hux had woken up the next day, he was sore. His wrists were bruised and his legs pulsating in pain. Lips cracked and bleeding. Ears ringing. _“You think you’ll be a successful lawyer when you’re always thinking of cigarettes? You think this makes you desirable - when you smoke?”_

After that, Hux only smoked outside his home. Hindsight was 20/20 in realizing that _of fucking course_ Brendol would have smelt the smoke in his room. 

And he didn’t want to give up the only good thing to happen to him in a long while. But he also didn’t want to face the same punishment again. So he came up with a plan to only smoke when necessary, to only smoke outside his home, and to not ever chain smoke.

Yet that did nothing to satisfy the mental itch for them. No matter how hard he tried, he would think of them and yearn for them and one cigarette just never seemed like enough.

Hux opened his eyes now, looked down at the half-ashed cigarette his fingers were holding. He could do it. Chain smoke. He could. Brendol wouldn’t be home until ten, and by then Hux would be holed up in his room making no sound. The smell of smoke would be long gone by then, too. He pursed his lips, rolled the cig between his fingers. Leftover glitter dust sparkled in the sunlight, catching Hux’s eye. _Fucking hell. I almost forgot,_ he thought.

Thinking of the bonfire only stressed him out further. He didn’t like parties, didn’t like the noise level of them. But going would help him socially, which in turn would be useful in the long run when he needed things from people. Like cigarettes or information. Yet he had no alibi to lie with to Brendol. He couldn’t use projects or an upcoming test, as it was the end of the year. And he knew if it wasn’t career or school related he would be in trouble.

Angrily he threw the Marlboro on the ground, crushed it to death. He needed to be on his best behavior in order to go, and chain smoking was counterproductive. 

\----

The next few days passed in a blur of nothingness. 

Hux was mainly isolated in his room going over test reviews for Finals during the weekend. It was aggravating, considering that he was pretty damn sure he knew it all already. But occasionally Brendol would barge in, making sure that he was on task and focused. Usually when that happened a pop quiz ensued, and if Hux got even one question wrong he was berated. Told to study harder.

Hux thought his mind would explode.

_Don’t be stupid, don’t be stupid. Successful lawyers aren’t stupid, you **idiot.**_

Monday rolled around and Hux pretended the pressure he felt on his shoulders was confidence. After all, he had never failed an exam before. Why should he start now? To fail was an absurd thought that should have never crossed his mind in the first place. He had studied until his eyes bled from their sockets, dripping all over the review packets. He had this in the bag.

The exams were standard long - about two and half hours each. For Monday’s it was his first period and second period on the A day. He filled out scantron after scantron. Answer after answer. And when he was finished for the day, he went home to study some more.

Food and sleep became relatively meaningless. Hux became a machine.

Tuesday dawned. It was the same concept, only for the B day. Nothing seemed to surprise or stump him.

Wednesday showed its face. The last two classes for the A day. Ben’s in the same classes as him today, but he didn't really speak to him. He was too zoned in.

Thursday finally came. Hux didn’t even notice everyone else’s excitement. He was too concentrated on acing the last two tests.

The sound of the bell ringing for the last time finally knocked him out of his stupor. Green eyes blinked, taking in how everyone was pushing around him to get out. People were laughing and smiling and meeting up with friends and yelling and oh. He could feel his hunger pains, now, along with his exhaustion. Like he hit a wall head on.

“Hux!”

Hux turned around, and it took him a minute to register that it was Ben who was speaking to him. “Ben,” he said.

“You ignored me all yesterday.”

“So?”

“‘So?’ Really? That’s all you’re going to fucking say to me?”

Hux made a face and started to walk in the direction of the doors. “Don’t act so butthurt, Ben.”

Ben walked beside him, looking down at him in disbelief. “Are you...are you okay?” he wondered aloud. It was supposed to be sarcastic, but somehow came out worried.

The redhead gritted his teeth, hating everything about this conversation. “You don’t get to ask me that question.”

“I wouldn’t have bothered to ask if I knew you were going to be such a bitch about it. Forget I even asked.”

They walked in silence together down the crowded hallway, and when the sunlight hit them upon their exit, Hux wanted nothing more than his bed. He figured he had more than enough time to sleep, seeing as the bonfire started at six and it was noon now. Five hours of sleep was more than enough for him. Not to mention it also gave him a chance to eat something within that one hour window he left for himself. 

Ben headed off to where his car was parked off campus. He didn’t bother to say goodbye to Hux, which was a petty jab at Hux’s past behavior. Hux didn’t care, though. He walked the opposite direction to where his own car was. At sixteen both he and his friend had gotten their licenses as soon as possible, since they both hated the thought of being dependent on their parents to get them places. Ben would have gotten a motorcycle, but Leia had shot that down as soon as the words fell from his lips.

Just another useless fact about Ben that Hux knew. He had millions of them, some of them useful for potential blackmail should things go sour between them.

 _Don’t think of Ben,_ he reprimanded himself. _Think only of your bed._

So that was what he did until he got home, passing out as soon as his head hit the pillow.

\----

When he awoke it was half past six. He blinked groggily at his analog clock, not comprehending the numbers for a few seconds. But eventually he did and he cursed out loud, getting out of bed and grabbing his towel from its heating rack. He took a quick shower, washing off the gross feeling of just waking up, and dressed just as fast. Threw his old clothes in the hamper and the towel back on the rack. The car keys felt cool in his hand as he grabbed them, and he skipped steps going down the stairs.

There was no sign of Brendol. Not in his study, not in the living room. His car wasn’t in the garage or driveway, either. Hux felt a sense of relief flood through him. He didn’t need to lie if he had no one to lie to. Good. That was one crisis averted.

Hux got into his silver-colored car. He started it and multitasked with putting on his seatbelt and checking his phone. 8 unread messages, most from Ben.

_You know what? you never gave me the card back so..._

_Are you coming?_

_Hux_

_H u x._

_Where are you??_

_Answer me dammit_

_Fuck you_

The rest were from Brendol.

_Change of plans: I will not be home until midnight due to this client’s case. You better be there when I get back, boy._

Hux didn’t bother texting either one of them back. The damage was done with Ben, and whenever he texted Brendol back it was like stepping into a Spanish Inquisition. He knew Brendol knew he had seen it anyway just from the “Seen at…” setting he had on. No, there was no real reason to text back.

The drive to Ben’s house was a familiar route due to all the past hangouts they’ve had. It didn’t take long, hardly ten minutes if he took the back roads. Hux rolled the windows down and let the hot wind dry his wet hair. And when he was far enough from his house that he felt safe, he lit a cigarette, tapping the ashes out the side of the car and into the pavement below. The radio was playing Top 50 Hits, as usual, so he switched channels whenever a shitty song came on.

Hux rather enjoyed driving.

But before he could really get into it, it was over. He parked behind a line of cars the stood in front of Ben’s house. Music blared from the beach where smoke was rising from, and there were people dancing, laughing, have a good time. Lots of people. More people than Hux had anticipated, actually. _Ben doesn’t know all of these people, surely?_ he thought while he walked to the bonfire. _There’s just no fucking way Ben knows **this** many people._

The closer he got the more people he recognized. There was Poe, an upperclassman who had been in Hux’s health class, dancing with Finn, whom Hux only knew from when he had been friends with Phasma. There was a girl from his English class making out with some guy he had never seen, red solo cups in both their hands. Hux had half a mind to go on a hunt to see where the alcohol was stashed at. Because if he knew anything about bonfires it was that red solo cups always always meant booze. And Hux appreciated alcohol’s existence very much.

Someone grabbed his shoulder rather suddenly and he spun around, ready to punch whoever did that. But ironically it was just Ben, who gave him a haughty look. “Why are you here?” he asked, not taking his hand off his shoulder. His other hand held a cup full of cola.

“Because you invited me, dumbass,” Hux replied.

“You didn’t RSVP.”

“Look at the size of this bonfire! Did you _really_ get that many RSVPs?”

The black-haired teen got quiet for a while. Then, wordlessly, he slid his hand down the redhead’s arm until he grabbed his hand so he could drag him off someplace. Hux gave an indignant huff but didn’t fight it, figuring it wasn’t anything bad. They didn’t leave the beach, just went somewhere quieter, and it was then that Ben let go. “I’m so fucked,” he groaned, looking out at the ocean.

Hux snorted. “Leia is going to be pissed at you,” he agreed, following his friend’s gaze. There were a few people swimming; but they were too far off to make out who they were exactly.

“Not just her, but Han too. Someone - I don't know who - found his alcohol cabinet and raided it. Good on them but _fuck._ ”

“So that’s where the alcohol came from…”

“Shut up. I need you to cover for me.”

“Cover for you? Are you insane?” Hux turned to his friend and gave him a look of disbelief. “Do you know what Brendol would do to me if he caught wind of me being involved? Which I’m _not_ , by the fucking way.”

“It probably wouldn't be anything bad,” Ben said flippantly. He sipped his cola. “You owe me for arriving an hour and a half late anyhow.”

Hux didn't answer that, just crossed his arms and internalized his sudden anger. _Wouldn't be bad my ass,_ he thought sarcastically. _Just more bruises - which isn't at all bad! It’s the absolute pinnacle of great!_

Oh he really could use some alcohol right now. He didn't want to be sober when he faced Brendol.

“Is your drink spiked?” he asked Ben, pointing to his solo cup.

Ben wrinkled his nose and looked down at it. “With rum, yeah. Wh - hey!”

Hux snatched it out of his friend’s hands and gulped it down. A mistake, as the fizz left him sputtering and the rum scorched his throat. But it kicked in fairly quickly, made him feel on fire in a good way. He handed the red cup back to his friend, who was looking at him in shock, and said, “I will cover you, asshole, on the condition that I can be violently drunk.” _Preferably to where I won't remember jackshit…_

“That’s not going to help me!”

“Yes well you're not doing me any favors either. Lead me to where the liquor is or I won't help.”

\----

The bonfire slowly became a warped blur of muffled sounds. Hux spent most of it taking shot after shot and getting steadily wasted. He often hung back, snickering to himself whenever he saw two people going at it or fighting or dancing awkwardly. His veins felt free and his limbs heavy. In a good way, though. He hadn't been drunk in months.

Sometimes Ben would appear, talked to Hux. He floated in and out of the redhead’s drunken world, not saying anything substantial. Not that anyone drunk would say anything substantial anyway.

“I should just enjoy it? You know? That’s what my grandfather would have done.” His words were slurred, breath reeking.

Hux nodded along, not caring the least bit to reply. 

“Who gives a _fuck_ if my parents come home pissed? _I_ am too!”

For the most part the music drowned him out. And it soon became dark too, which made the only light source the bonfire, which in turn made it harder to see Ben. Hux didn't mind, though, and he soon lost track of him for who knew how long. 

By his fifth shot he felt very loose, his face burning.

Hux swayed to the music that was ringing in his ears, tried to sing along at times, too. One time a boy came up - he looked very familiar but Hux couldn't match face to name - and told some lame pickup lines. Hux found himself laughing too hard and smiling too much and agreeing to dance with him. The makeshift dance floor was crowded with other tipsy or drunk people, though there were some sober. Not that Hux noticed. All he could see was the brown eyes he was looking at; all he could feel was the guy’s lips sloppily kissing his. 

One minute they were dancing and the next making out.

Hux didn't know what was happening or why it felt familiar.

But then as soon as it started the mystery guy left, claimed he would get them drinks. Hux didn't think much of it, his lips and tongue tasted like beer and cola and whatever else the boy had been drinking prior. 

Time passed. He didn't come back.

So Hux stumbled to the improvised bar he was sitting at earlier and took another shot of rum. His earlier mania came crashing down on him suddenly and without warning, making him tear up. The thought of crying only made him angry, however, and he crushed his solo cup in his fist. Tore at his hair. How dare _he_ not come back? How dare _she._ Leaving him alone at a bonfire confused and not knowing what to do? Leaving him alone with his monster of a father. It wasn't fair! He didn't deserve any of it.

By his seventh shot Hux didn't feel all too good. He could barely stand without feeling lightheaded, could barely sit without the world spinning around him. The noise level grew not from the music, but from the ringing in his ears. Nausea churned his stomach and turned it into a magma chamber ready to erupt out his mouth. Which it did. All over the sand.

Hux was still vomiting when the music suddenly stopped, a familiar voice yelling at everyone to go home. 

The beach cleared pretty quick. Everyone left, the sober people driving the drunk ones to avoid a DUI. There were a few fights over who took control of the wheel, but they were quickly shut up. Everyone left but Hux, who was too drunk to move without help.

Two people came into his warped field of vision a few minutes later. A woman and a man, with what looked like concern on their faces. It was either concern or fury. Or both. He couldn't tell.

“Hux.”

Hux responded by throwing up again. All over the man’s shoes.

“Oh Jesus Christ! That’s just great. Go _home_ , Hux.”

“Han! He’s in no position to drive or be driven. It’s a miracle he hasn't passed out yet. Let him sleep here.”

“Leia, do you see this kid? He’s a mess.”

“Which is why we need to let him sleep here.”

The man - Han? - let out an exasperated noise. “Fine. But his father is dealing with his hangover. Not us. We already have our hands full with Ben.”

The next thing Hux knew he was being picked up (had he been sitting?), his arms being draped over two shoulders. It was awkward walking, as one shoulder was taller than the other, but Hux could feel his eyes closing nonetheless.

“Stay awake, buddy. Just a little while longer.”

That was a hard order to follow. He was half-conscious by the time they reached the door. The shorter person - Leia? - pushed it open with a groan. They led him inside to their living room wherein they lay him down on a soft couch. Someone said something, but Hux didn't know what it was. He just finally let himself pass out.


End file.
